The Kitty and the Bomb
by Kayka
Summary: Sometimes, things actually don't blow up in Victor Creed's face. Sometimes, they just kind of fizzle. Tiny one-shot. Complete.


**Disclaimer:** If I owned the X-Men and associated heroes and villains, we'd see a whole lot more of the shenanigans that happen when they're not saving and/or destroying the world. But I don't, so, this little bout of silliness is necessary.

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**The Kitty and the Bomb**

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It all started when the rock showed up in his shower. He didn't know _what_ she needed a rock for, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask.

But the rock on the ledge was just the gateway clutter to a hard-as-fuck sponge and an array of shampoos, soaps, and lotions.

"What's with all this girly shit? When'd she get into all this girly shit?" Victor groused to himself.

_Scratch that._ It all started when he picked up a damned tiny orphan girl straight out of a lab well over a decade ago.

Turned out he was a sucker for big green eyes and a shy smile that tugged at his withered, old heartstrings. Though, he never quite figured out the particulars of how he had ended up with an impertinent, mischievous ward four months out of every year.

Of course he'd dumped the kid off on Xavier the first chance he got. But her mutation let her track him down any time she wanted, which was _inconvenient_ given his line of work. It was just plain easier to let the kid visit on schedule, since she _would_, given permission or not.

And if he started planning his jobs to take her school vacations into account and was always there to pick her up, none of the X-Geeks dared say anything. Not even his dumbass little brother.

But back to his shower. His bathtub. His sanctuary.

Victor had taken a month long recon job, and he refused to stay in a shitty motel. So, he'd rented a marginally less shitty apartment to keep a low profile.

The whole thing happened to coincide with the kid's summer vacation, and so she'd come too. He'd been against it, but she was going out for the team next year. It'd be part of her training, she'd said, and she was damned stubborn when she put her mind to it.

The upside was that the place had two bedrooms.

The downside was that he had to share the bathroom.

But the kid was family, and he was man enough to put up with her girly shampoos and body sprays that made him sneeze. Though, he half thought she bought those just to mess with him.

He could even put up with the damned holey rock she'd drug in.

But that glittery little clump of star-shaped soap needed to go.

He'd tell her to get the monstrosity out of his sight after his bath because now that he was settled, he refused to move unless the damn property was being bombed.

Victor relaxed into his well-deserved bath, the warmth leaching the tension out of his neck and back.

Some minutes later he decided to actually wash- the man reached for a rag, inevitably knocking into some of the girl's shit lining the tub. He ignored it; reorganizing the damned bottles could wait.

Then he heard a soft plop, and the sharp scent of lime and ginger combined with something abhorrently sweet grew strong enough to compel him to open his eyes.

"Shit!"

The glitter-soap had fallen into the tub and started fucking fizzing _everywhere_, spreading its twinkling plague in an ever-dispersing cloud.

He reached for the not-soap, neatly slicing the star into pieces and coating his hand and claws in silvery glitter. He stared at the appendage in disgust.

With the encouragement of his frantic sloshing, the nefarious sparkles now clung to his legs and chest, and for the love of God, there was _glitter_ on his _dick_.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Within seconds the last of the wretched thing fizzled away.

Victor swiped a hand down his face before he remembered its odious state, streaking his features with a shimmery brand of war paint. He growled, and closed his eyes, endeavoring to calm down and count to ten.

_Nope._

"Laura!"

A creak heralded the young woman's arrival. He ought to oil the damned hinges.

"What the _hell_ is this?!" The feral gesticulated to the semi-opaque sea of silver in which he found himself.

"Oh my God," was followed by the door slamming back.

Figuring the damage was done, and he'd get his answers later, the feral let his head fall back over the ledge of the tub. He wasn't finished relaxing, dammit, and he planned on doing so come hell or glittery water.

A subsequent creak and a flash of light caused Victor to cut his eyes dangerously at the girl in the doorway.

"You're gonna fucking delete that," he warned.

"Not a chance. Wait 'til Logan sees this!"

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A/N: I have a smidge of a glitter problem borne from a fandom that shall remain nameless. Various liberties were taken. I couldn't resist. I'm not sorry.


End file.
